


down in the brooklyn toil

by arabellagaleotti



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, no civil war basically, steve rodgers is bi as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabellagaleotti/pseuds/arabellagaleotti
Summary: Sometimes, every so often, something special happens. If Steve’s ma was still here, she’d say it’s God letting you know it’s all gonna be alright. But, she’s not here, so Steve just thinks if you keep digging into all the shit you’re bound to find something good eventually.OR,Steve and Bucky are gay in Brooklyn, but not really.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, every so often, something special happens. If Steve’s ma was still here, she’d say it’s God letting you know it’s all gonna be alright. But, she’s not here, so Steve just thinks if you keep digging into all the shit you’re bound to find something good eventually. 

For example, tonight. Gold and pink slant down from the sky, lighting all of Brooklyn on fire, burning through the smoke and steam that dirties everything to wash it clean for a few simple moments. It looks like cherubs should be singing in the heavens, like this very scene should be immortalized on a canvas hanging in some famous art gallery. 

The door rattles, and a moment later opens and closes with a bang. “Stevie!” Bucky calls out and stomps into the apartment. Steve turns, fights his eyes away from the sight outside the window to the sight of Bucky. 

“Hey,” and all the breath is knocked out of him. Steve can smell the salt on him from here. He’s been working at the docks these past few months, Steve’s seen him down there, hauling rope, laughing with the other men like he is one of them. Maybe he is. They all go out for a drink after work, but Bucky never does, just comes home to him. 

The others make jokes about needing to get home to his wife, if they should be concerned, if Smithy should put his shirt back on, but Bucky laughs it all off. 

The man in question sits down on their worn, patchy couch that they got at the thrift shop nearby before it closed, takes off his boots and coat to reveal his pale linen shirt and suspenders with his dark grey trousers. 

“How’d you go today?” he asks, and stops by to look at Steve’s work set up on the beat-up desk they found on the street. Steve’s been working for a comic strip lately. Bucky always likes to read them over when he gets home.

Steve comes over and stands next to Bucky. “I got the next two done. They're pretty good.” They are. All colour, bright stripes of it, superheroes fighting the bad guys; all the stuff Steve used to believe in. 

“They’re great, Stevie,” Bucky says softly, eyes on the paper. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve shrugs it off. 

Steve has an alternate reality, one where Bucky loves him in more of a way than brothers do. In this reality, their apartment is not just because this is the Great Depression and why would they both pay separate rents? In this reality, everyone knows who they are to each other, no dames even _try_ to take Bucky dancing. In his reality, Bucky never goes with them. 

“Wanna get dinner at Rosie's?” Steve suggests.

“Yeah, alright,” Bucky says, and grabs his coat again. 

Rosie’s is a nice place, small, local-owned, by this real nice woman who’s come from down south. The food is cheap enough, their only unnecessary expenditure is for one meal a week, and it's worth it. 

Life is hard with the depression. Steve works, Bucky works, everyone works if they can, day in, day out, just to get enough money to live. They make an alright living by themselves, better than some folks, Bucky does most of the traditional manly work, and Steve draws, and works as a librarian, and part-time at the bakery down the street.

But Rosie’s is the only place where all that doesn’t touch them. They have their seats, right at the end. There’s a chip in the bar from when Bucky smashed his cup, and a scratch from Steve’s crutches, that time he rolled his ankle. This place is as full of them as their apartment is. Steve drinks his coffee and watches Bucky eat his egg drop soup.

In his reality, they would be giggling like the sweethearts in the corner. They would hold hands and stride out onto the sidewalk when they are done and live their lives with pride.

But this isn't his reality, so they eat in silence like men are meant to do. They walk out the door when they are done, waving to Rosie behind the counter as they do, and step out onto the street. Steve makes a joke and Bucky shoves him on the shoulder. He feels like a boy again, when his reality was just a fledgeling daydream.

The sun is going down over the horizon in layers of red and orange, burnt sienna and blood, Steve stares out west and something in his heart breaks. To be here, right now, with Bucky, with Brooklyn, with 1936. It’s the most incredible series of coincidences he's ever experienced. 

They get back up to the apartment, and Steve _cannot_ stop staring. The artist in him aches for his paints, but he ran out long ago and they don’t have money to get more. 

Buck turns around and sees him staring. “Good sun tonight,” he says and opens the icebox. “Wanna sit out on the escape?”

Steve just smiles and opens the window. Bucky joins him on the grated metal a moment later with two beers in hand. Steve shuffles forward and sticks his legs out to dangle over Brooklyn. There are a few cars on the street, and if you look straight down, you can see the hats of passersby below them. Bucky hands him the glass and Steve lifts the cold lip of it to his own and takes a sip. He doesn't really like beer, to be honest, especially not the stuff they get, but Bucky does, so Steve drinks it with him.

There’s silence, just for a moment, and Bucky is mulling something over, Steve can tell.

“What do you think the future will be like, Steve?” Bucky rasps, finally. 

Steve thinks and swallows another mouthful of the piss Bucky calls beer. “I dunno. People say they’ll be flying cars and all of tha’. I think it’ll be just the same. The people will be, anyway.”.

Buck nods and swallows in Steve's peripheral vision. “I agree, Stevie,” he says, and puts down his beer in the space between them, keeps his hand there. 

Steve puts his beer down too, and lays his hand on the metal as well. So, so close to Bucky’s. Steve slips away to his alternate reality for a moment, where he would take Bucky’s hand in his and hold in there while they watched the sun go down over their city. Steve stares at them, their hands close together, for a moment. He’s pale and veiny with long, calloused painter’s fingers. Bucky’s got shorter fingers, he’s tan and just as calloused from his work at the docks.

“I guess I’ll see you then, Buck,” Steve says and slips into his alternate reality, where Bucky would kiss him right about now. He turns his head, and watches Bucky laugh.

“See you there, Stevie,” he repeats and the glow of the sun is highlighting him in slow, orange fire so perfectly Steve almost cannot believe that Bucky has not been sent down by God, as his ma would say, or by the universe, as he would. God never could create something so untainted, because that's what Bucky is. No matter what happens. He’s perfect. 

And the sun finally slips over the horizon.

And their hands never touch.

And Steve still drinks the beer he doesn't like.

And people still pass by under them.

And the world turns slowly, and ticks into another second of another day that Steve's reality is not _the_ reality.

Eventually, Bucky gets up and goes inside to light the lanterns and candles, since the electrics went out one day and haven't been on since. Steve sits out there for a moment, drains the last of his beer, and watches the lights all over the city flick-on. Then he goes inside, where Bucky’s laying on the couch, his eyes all closed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahh i accidentally posted the first chapter as in spanish, it's not. i wish i was fluent enough in spanish to write a trashy gay fic.

Bucky goes off to war, and Steve follows him all the way to Italy because Steve has been following him since they were little kids and it's second nature now. 

On the way, he meets Peggy in muggy, taffy-sweet New Jersey. Peggy is ...well, she’s like Bucky and so unlike Bucky it makes his head spin. They’re both bold, headstrong and tough. They both have moments of vulnerability, but Peggy says what she means, and Bucky was content with silence, Peggy can't stand it. 

He likes Peggy. Which is strange, because he’s never really liked anyone, other than Bucky. But he likes her. And  _ she _ likes  _ him _ , for some strange reason, the scrawny, ashmatic, witty piece of shit from Brooklyn. Her, the brave, strong, powerful, headstrong girl all the way from England. 

So yeah, he kisses her, his second ever kiss. He means it, everything he says, on the way down. He’ll never love anyone like he loves Bucky, but she’s the closest you could get. She doesn tknow about him. He can't tell her, because don't get it. She wouldn't get it, even as a woman who fought to be included in the boys club.

—

Then comes the ice, and the cold, and Steve cries out in what he knows is his last moments, he cries out for the future, and for Bucky, and for everything he never said. He cries out for the skinny little artist in Brooklyn. He cries out for the guy who lived with him, who always came home and looked at his art like he cared, who sat on the fire escape with him, who sometimes looked at him the same way, but that was probably wishful thinking. 

\--

He wakes up, and almost thinks he’s back at home with Bucky again, just for a moment, he forgets about everything. About the war, about the ice. With the radio on, and the light slanting through the window, and the softness of sleep, it feels like Saturday morning, and Bucky’s probably already gone to work already, Steve sleeps in and then gets up, gets Bucky’s breakfast leftovers, the one he leaves for him. 

Steve refuses to open his eyes at first, just to preserve it all, cast it in resin, but then it all crashes down on him, and he remembers. He remembers the war, and Peggy, and the ice. 

He slides his legs over the side of the bed, and thinks for a moment. 

Why is he here? How is it here? Where's Bucky, where’s Peggy?

The words on the radio are less muffled now, he can understand them. A baseball game. 

Then the door opens. A woman comes in. but she's … wrong. You can see her lingerie through her shirt, her tie isn't for women, her hair is wrong and, and...everything is wrong. God, what's happening?

“Morning,” she says gently, and closes the door behind her. “Or should I say afternoon?”

“Where am I?” He asks. This isn't right. 

She smiles, and opens her mouth to spit another lie. 

This  _ really _ isn't right. 

—

  
  


“Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there,” the man in black tells him, “but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.” Break what?

All Steve can see are the spinning phantoms of light and sound and...advertisements all around him. It takes a second for him to blink all that away. He answers on autopilot, mind too consumed. 

He blinks back into the present, “You've been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years.” The man tells him, and Steve knows he isn't lying. He can't be. 

  
  


— 

He gets given a folder on … practically everything that’s happened since 1945. It's a lot.

There’s lots of great stuff, like the internet, and vaccines, and the television in sound and colour and HD — whatever that means.

And he’s happy for it, really, and he loves it, all the change human beings have made, all the social progress and justice that has been served. 

Then he has to stop because he realises Bucky would have loved this new world more than he ever could. It feels like a gut punch. Half because he’s dead, the other half because he nearly  _ forgot _ . He won’t forget that expo, that light shining out from his eyes, the way he talked about it. 

That was the real night everything started unravelling, even if he didn't see it then. Steve thought that going to war was brave. He was wrong. Now, he’d give everything, anything to be back there, not stranded in the future where everyone and everything he knows is dead. 

But, not everything is. The people are still here, like he thought, clinging to Brooklyn like weeds in the pavement. He finds out that there's a real name for people like him now, that the world has changed in a way he never thought it would. 

He finds out that they’re allowed to  _ get married _ now and nearly cries in the silence of his SHIELD-issued room. He thinks of the girl with the short hair that lived in the apartment next to them, her friends who would stay the night, how she smiled at them sometimes, in that way, like they shared a secret. Not really, Steve likes to wish, but Bucky was All-American, he was the good son. He'd never have such depraved thoughts, let alone act on them. 

He closes his eyes, breathes through his nose.

He should forget him. He’s dead. He’s been dead for years and years and  _ years _ . He should forget him. 

But he listens hard, He can nearly hear Bucky again, the clink of bottles, the bang of the door, it’s like he’s coming home again.

But he never did come home, did he?

Neither did Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Steve’s in the kitchen, making omelettes. No one else is up, like always, and the sky is still mostly dark. Steve likes these moments. He’s alone, but he doesn't feel alone.

A quiet ding, and then JARVIS speaks from the ceiling. “Mr Stark is approaching,” he says softly.

Steve smiles, he’s so buoyant, so happy, strangely, he doesn't have a reason to be. “Thank you JARVIS.”

“Pleasure, sir,” he says, and the elevator doors ding as they slide open.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve says, without turning around. 

“Hey, Captain,” Tony says back and crosses the kitchen to stare down at the dark pan with him. 

“Why’re you here?”

“I...I just want to let you know I heard some chatter that, uh..” he trails off, seemingly unsure how to pitch it.

That alarms Steve more than anything else, “what?” He turns towards him, sees the dark circles under his eyes, the heavy way he carries himself.

“Bucky Barnes,” Tony blurts out.  _ Bucky?  _ “I think he’s the Winter Soldier,'' Tony says and watches him intently. Steve feels his face twist into something else. He's heard of the Winter Soldier, of course. The horror stories. What he does to people. Ruthless, cold, robotic. That's not Bucky. Bucky didn't even wanna fight in Italy. 

“I— No. Buck, bucky wouldn't. He hated the war. He didn't want to hurt anyone.'' Steve thinks of him, that soft look in his eyes he got when they talked about the future, and talked about. Steve misses that dearly, more than anything in the world. 

Tony exhales. “I don't know, steve. I just...i've always heard things about him, stuff that could match up. Never thought it was him. Never even thought it was true.”

“Oh, god,” steve says “oh my god.” This means he’s alive. It means he’s still here. How the fuck is he still here?

“Steve, breathe,” Tony says. “Breathe, okay? I know it's hard.”

“He’s — he’s still here,” steve gasps out.

“Yeah, and you're gonna find him, I know that if I know anything about you.”

—

Nat’s alone in the lounge, wrapped in a blanket, watching the news. 

“Hey,” she says, as he comes in. He stands in front of the tv, she looks vaguely annoyed until he speaks.

“Nat, I have a job for you.”

She looks up to him, “go on,” she commands. 

“I think Bucky’s still alive.”

“Barnes? Your old friend.” Yeah, and that's what you were. Just friends. “He’d be, what, ninety-five?”

“Well, probably not, since I think he’s the Winter Soldier.”

Her eyes widened. “Show me a picture of him.”

Steve frowns. 

—

“Yeah, he’s the Winter Soldier,” Nat says, looking into the hologram, it’s Bucky's official War picture, and he looks so stoic, so entirely fake. He’s got his back straight as anything and a neutral look on his face, all dressed up in his army uniform. It’s like someone else. Steve doesn't know that person, not like he knows Bucky, who laughs at silly jokes and dances in public for a dare. 

“What?”

“How do you know?” Tony questions.

Natasha swallows, “Russia acquired him in the 80’s, liked to use him for training.”

“What was he like?” Steve asks, he can't help himself, even if it hurts him to know Bucky isn't the same anymore, he still needs to know.

She shrugs. “Quiet, stoic. A dog on a leash, really. Always under supervision, always with a handler. Points to defiance in the past, maybe a few attempted escapes.”

“Anything else?”

She hesitates, “uh, he was kind. He didn't hurt us when he could've, and no one would have cared. But he didn't.”

Steve smiles. He’s got a warm feeling in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, “that's bucky.”

—

“Steve,” Natasha says, jumping off the elevator before the door even opens.

“Hey, what's up?” Steve says, shutting his laptop, he was just reading he news, hoping for a headline like MYSTERIOUS MAN CAPTURED, NO MEMORIES, ONLY KNOWS NEW YORK AND STEVE. 

“Bucky’s in Croatia.”

“What?”

“You heard. HYDRA base, surveillance shows a plane with a shoddy at best history — last-minute flight plans, privately owned, flies into a local airport, transport van picks a group of six up, one leader, two henchmen, one person who looks like Bucky Barnes and a couple of guards. Still waiting on CCTV, but it looks like him. 

Steve smiles. There's a warm feeling in his chest, and he can't diagnose it for a moment, but then he does. _Hope._

—

“Tony, I — I found him.”

“Who?” Tony says without looking up.

Steve swallows. “Bucky.”

tony changes in an instant. His spine strengthens and he swivels in his chair. “Holy shit,” he says, and stares at Steve with wide eyes.

Steve smiles. “Holy shit” he echos. He’s gonna get him back.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve’s in the kitchen, making omelettes. No one else is up, like always, and the sky is still mostly dark. Steve likes these moments. He’s alone, but he doesn't feel alone.

A quiet ding, and then JARVIS speaks from the ceiling. “Mr Stark is approaching,” he says softly.

Steve smiles, “thank you JARVIS.”

“Pleasure, sir,” he says, and the elevator doors ding as they slide open.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve says, without turning around. 

“Hey, Captain,” Tony says back and crosses the kitchen to stare down at the dark pan with him. 

“Why’re you here?”

“I...I just want to let you know I heard some chatter that, uh..” he trails off, seemingly unsure how to pitch it.

That alarms Steve more than anything else, “what?” He turns towards him, sees the dark circles under his eyes, the heavy way he carries himself.

“Bucky Barnes,” Tony blurts out.  _ Bucky?  _ “I think he’s the Winter Soldier,'' Tony says and watches him intently. Steve feels his face twist into something else. He's heard of the Winter Soldier, of course. The horror stories. What he does to people. Ruthless, cold, robotic. That's not Bucky. Bucky didn't even wanna fight in Italy. Bucky wouldn't do that.

“I— No. Bucky wouldn't. He hated the war. He didn't want to hurt anyone.'' Steve thinks of him, that soft look in his eyes he got when they talked about the future, and talked about. Steve misses that dearly, more than anything in the world. 

Tony exhales. “I don't know, Steve. I just...I've always heard things about him, stuff that could match up. Never thought it was him. Never even thought it was true.”

“Oh, god,” Steve says “oh my god.” This means he’s alive. It means he’s still here. How the fuck is he still here?

“Steve, breathe,” Tony says. “Breathe, okay? I know it's hard.”

“He’s — he’s still here,” Steve gasps out.

“Yeah, and you're gonna find him, I know that if I know anything about you.”

—

Nat’s alone in the lounge, wrapped in a blanket, watching the news. 

“Hey,” she says, as he comes in. He stands in front of the TV, she looks vaguely annoyed until he speaks.

“Nat, I have a job for you.”

She looks up to him, “go on,” she commands. 

“I think Bucky’s still alive.”

“Barnes? Your old friend.” yeah, and that's what you were. Just friends. “He’d be, what, Ninety-five years old?”

“Well, probably not, since I think he’s the Winter Soldier.”

Her eyes widened. “Show me a picture of him.”

Steve frowns. 

—

“Yeah, he’s the Winter Soldier,” Nat says, looking into the hologram, it’s Bucky's WW2 picture, and he looks so stoic, so entirely fake. He’s got his back straight as anything and a neutral look on his face, all dressed up in his army uniform. It’s like someone else.

“What?”

“How do you know?” tony questions.

“Russia acquired him in the ’80s, liked to use him for training.”

“What was he like?” Steve asks. 

She shrugs. “Quiet, stoic. A dog on a leash, really. Always under supervision, always with a handler. Points to defiance in the past, maybe a few attempted escapes.”

“Anything else?”

She hesitates, “uh, he was kind. He didn't hurt us, even when he could've, and no one would have cared. But he didn't.”

Steve smiles. He’s got a warm feeling in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, “that's bucky.”

—

“Steve,” Natasha says, jumping off the elevator before the door even opens.

“Hey, what's up?” steve says, shutting his laptop.

“Bucky’s in Croatia.”

“What?”

“You heard. HYDRA base, surveillance shows a plane with a shoddy at best history — last-minute flight plans, privately owned, flies into a local airport, transport van picks a group of six up, one leader 2 henchmen, one person who looks like Bucky Barnes and a couple of guards. Still waiting on CCTV, but it looks like him."

"Well, that's just the plane landing. When did he go after that?"

"There are several hotspots of HYDRA activity in that activity, and I have a possible location, I'm waiting on Fury to verify it."

  
  


—

“Tony, I — I found him.”

“Who?” Tony says without looking up.

Steve swallows. “Bucky.”

tony changes in an instant. His spine strengthens and he swivels in his chair. “Holy shit,” he says and stares at steve.

Steve smiles. “Holy shit” he echos. 

He’s gonna get him back. He's gonna get Bucky back. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Okay, basically we don't know what we’re walking into,” Steve starts off, looking at everyone in the conference room. 

“I don't like the sound of this already,” Fury grumbles.

Steve swallows. “Anyway. Nat has info that he’s being held in Croatia, outside the capital city Zagreb. He landed in a private plane a few days ago.” Jarvis pulls up pictures on the big screen helpfully, the grainy images of Maybe-Bucky, his handlers, the rest of the group.

“We can't make an ID off the CCTV, but we suspect it’s Alexander Pierce."

“Where is he being held?” Tony asks, barely looking up from his StarkPad.

“There’s rumours of a base that JARVIS is tracking down right now a few miles away from the airport.”

“Why are we doing this?” Clint says, leaning back in his chair, Natasha sitting next to him, takes the arm and shoves it back so Clint goes sprawling.

“What a dumb fucking question, Barton,” she snarls.

Steve clears his throat. “No, it’s a fair one. Bucky is...I can't leave him. He’s...everything. He's my best friend, and the only one left from my time, I guess. Uh, people don't get it. Being lonely like this. No one else can actually understand. Except him.” He feels self-conscious, putting himself on the line like this. “I remember, this one time in the summer we were at Rockaway Beach, and we spent all our money on hotdogs, and Bucky spent like 3 bucks tryna win a prize for some girl —” a girl he had imagined was him “and that doesn't sound like a lot, but it is, so we had to catch a ride back to Brooklyn on the back of a freezer truck, but even then we had to walk 10 blocks because we had no money for the subway, either.” Steve smiles to himself, “and I was so mad, hoppin’ mad because this had happened before, and Bucky had promised not to spend it all this time, but he just looked at me and said, ‘Stevie, you ain’t gonna be mad for long, so why don't we just enjoy this lovely walk.’ and uh, he was right. He was my best friend, and I couldn't stay mad.” He laughs, a little, at himself, and at the team, all watching him. “Look, I understand the risk I'm asking you to take, and you're more than welcome to take it, but you're also more than welcome to decline. I'm gonna do this no matter what.”

“I’ll go,” Natasha says, straight away.

“I've done more dangerous things for a pack of beer,” Clint admits, “me too.” 

“Eh, everyone else is getting in on this, why not?” Tony says. “I've been bored lately, anyway.”

Natasha grimaces. “I know. You automated our toaster.”

“He's cute, isn't he? Little Fido,” Tony grins at her.

Steve doesn't even process how horrifying that statement is because he’s smiling so hard his head might burst and his heart is singing.

“Thank you, guys. Really.”

“Not a problem,” Fury says, standing up and walking to the front of the room. “You have the full support of SHIELD in order to recapture an American patriot that has fallen into enemy hands.” Fury sighs, and faces everyone else. “Let’s do this, soldiers.”   
  


—

“Are you sure about this?'' Natasha asks, quietly. They're in the quinjet, and everything’s quiet. Tony’s flying the thing — or since it’s mostly automated, overseeing the flying. Clint’s fiddling with his arrows and scrolling through his phone, and Banners going through inventory, like he always does. 

Steve tightens a strap on his thigh. “Yes.” he’s sure. He’s so sure. Bucky is...bucky is everything. Bucky’s always been everything.

“Okay,” Natasha says, and catches his hand, holds it with hers for a moment. 

—

The base is quiet. It looks deserted. A small concrete bunker in the middle of the woods. Nothing special, right? Wrong.

“Okay, careful here, team. Nat and Clint, go in from the north, Tony with me, Bruce, hold on until we need help.”

“I don't like your use of ‘until’ there, Captain,” Tony jokes.

Steve’s too nervous to smile. “Sorry.”

Tony catches on. “Don't worry about it. We’ll get him back, Rodgers.”

He does smile this time, hope fluttering in his chest. “Yeah, we will.”

—

The inside of the base is just as quiet as the outside. Long concrete corridors, and empty rooms full of medical equipment, bunks, weapons.

“They knew we were coming and cleared out,” Tony says.

“How?” Steve sighs.

“Dunno. I’ll get Fury to look into it,” Tony says as they advance down another corridor.

Steve pushes the next door open, and glances at what's inside.

A...chair? It’s solid metal, with a harness and mouth bit. electricity crackles in the quiet of the room.

"What the fuck is tha—" Tony starts, then a dark, masked figure swings out of the shadows and tackles him like a rugby player. 

Steve gasps and unlatches his shield from his back.

Tony blasts the attacker back, and he flies back through the air. 

"Cap," Tony gasps, "is it — is it him?"

Steve sees his face or the outline of it. Yes, it's him. He knows that face, because he has stared at it in the dark, and spent long afternoons with it, and peered it out of the corner of his eye as they twirl through the air at Coney Island. He knows that face, he knows him. 

He doesn't answer Tony but speaks to the man striding towards them “Bucky, it’s me. Buck —", he gets cut because he has to whip his shield up to cover himself as Bucky fires at him from a handgun at his side. 

"Bucky please, it's me," His eyes widen, under the mask, and Steve tells himself it’s because he recognises it, but then he pulls out a rifle and tries to fire three shots into his chest. So that theory done, or Bucky’s a lot madder than he remembers. 

His arm shines as Steve kicks the rifle out of his hand, and Steve's brain is full of glitches for a moment.  _ What? _

“Hey, what the fuck, he's got a metal arm,” Tony says into the coms. 

“I noticed,'' Steve shouted, dogging another punch. “Bucky,” he tries, again, but that only seems to infuriate him. 

Steve flings the shield at his midsection, but he  _ catches it  _ and holds it up against Clint's rapid-fire arrows. The arrows ping as they fall off the shield, falling to the ground with blunted arrowheads. Bucky looks at the shield, at the barely scratched paint. Maybe he remembers something?

Nat attacks him from behind, thighs hooking around his neck, squeezing. She launches her weight backwards, flipping them back like an upturned turtle. She unholsters the syringe at her side and shoves it into his neck roughly.

He manages to dislodge her from his neck and struggles to his feet, making one lame step forward before his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses.

“Well,” Tony states, “this fight could have been a lot shorter.”

“Hurry up,” Natasha says, getting to her feet, “he’ll wake up soon.”

“She’s right,” Steve says, “serum doesn't last too long on people like us." That's the only conclusion, isn't it? Bucky is alive, 70 years after he was meant to die. 

Tony carries him back, Bucky slung over his shoulder like they're Shrek and Fiona. Yes, Steve's seen the movie. He’s not  _ that _ old. 

“Is he…. Dead?” Bruce asks them, only half-joking. 

“No,” Steve says, “knocked out. Prepare a stronger dose, he’ll wake up soon.”

“Oaky,” Bruce murmurs, opening a cabinet with medical supplies while Tony's armour deconstructs around him and he steps out, yawning.

“Fun day, huh kiddos?” he steps to the front of the quinjet and starts fiddling with controls.

“Totally,” Clint mumbles, and puts down his bow and quiver, stripping off his boots and socks. “I didn’t even get to do anything.”

“Stop complaining. Also, is that protocol, agent?'' Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow at the socks laying on the floor.

“He’s knocked out, Nat, calm down.”

She rolls her eyes at him and mumbles something in Russian.

Steve stands over his body while Bruce injects something into Bucky’s veins, muttering jargon. He stays standing as the quinjet takes off, and until they're halfway home when Natasha approaches him.

“Hey,” she says to Steve, who’s just looking down at Bucky.

“Hi, Nat,” he murmurs back. 

“You okay?”

“He doesn't...doesn't remember me,” Steve says, and tears his eyes from Bucky. 

“We don't know that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “he just tried to kill me, Natasha.”

“Yeah,” she sighs,“okay, maybe he doesn't remember you.”

Steve sighs. “I just...I don't know what's gonna happen.”

“When do you ever? When do any of us ever?” Natasha says, puts her hand on his shoulder 'you'll be okay, Steve. So will he.”

Steve smiles, grimly, “yeah. That's the hope, huh?"

She hugs him, hard, and Steve waits a moment before he hugs her.


	6. Chapter 6

“How are we gonna help him?” Clint asks as they stand above Bucky inside the Tower's lab, looking down on his sleeping face. 

“I've got someone in mind,” Tony says. 

—  
“Jarv, call Shuri," Tony says later on in the lab, flidding with a prototype for SI

“Certainly," JARVIS hums from the ceiling. 

“Shuri!” he says once the call connects. 

“Mr Stark, how are you?”

He hums, “pretty alright. I, uh, got someone for you to meet next time you’re over here. Smart kid, your age. You’d get on, he’s always referencing those...leaves or trees or whatever they’re called.”

“...vines?”

“Sure. Now, I’ve got something for you.”

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes. Likely brainwashed, likely enhanced, JARVIS is still running the blood samples, he’s heavily sedated right now but we don't wanna risk putting him under for too long. If you want him, come quickly.”

“Why are you offering this to me?”

“I can’t do it. Wouldn't want to, anyway. I think it would get...sticky.”

“Why?”

“Bucky Barnes is Steve’s childhood best friend.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. anyway, he doesn't remember Steve, and we found this weird chair thing. Looks like electrotherapy. Still waiting on those results too.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“But it could be something. You want it?”

“Another broken white boy to fix,” she says, delighted. “I’ll take it.”

Tony smiles to himself. “Brilliant. Arrange transport with JARV and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay.” Shuri disconnects from the call.

“JARV, tell Steve that I found someone for Barnes.”

"Of course."

\--

“Tony,” Steve says, at the doorway. He turns, sees him there, waves him in. 

“Hey, Steve," Tony says.

“Who's taking Bucky?”

“Shuri. T’Challa’s sister.”

“Isn't she like 16?”

“Yeah, I think she just had her birthday.”

“Tony, why are you giving Bucky to some teenage girl?!”

“Shuri’s IQ is higher than mine. She’s probably the smartest person in the world. It’s in her control.”

“You sure?”

“So sure.”

Steve sighs. “Okay. I'm just scared,”

“Barnes will be fine, Steve. You just have to wait.”

—

Later that week Shuri rings him. 

“Now, what's up? How’s Mr. frozen doing?”

“That's actually why I'm calling,” she says, “we’ve woken him up and commenced with memory retrieval trials. It’s worked remarkably well. He’s remembering more by the bay, but the damage was serious and he’s still confused.”

“Hm. Any violent outbursts?”

“Not yet, but he definitely can't handle too much.”

“Should I send Steve down?

“He's been asking for him.”

“Thanks, Shuri.”

“My pleasure.”

\--

Steve lands in Wakanda two days later. It's too hot here, is all he can think. It's like summer in New York, back in the 30’s, sweaty, suffocating, but wetter. At least New York isn't humid on its hot days. 

He’s scored straight from the plane to the place

“Captain,” a young black woman says, “I'm Shuri, I'm in charge of your friends care,”

"Nice to meet you, Shuri, call me Steve."

“Sure, Steve. Do you want to go to his room?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

She leads him through the palace, talking in technical jargon that Steve can't even hope to understand.

They get to a plain white door somewhere inside the maze of the building, Steve takes a deep breath, his heart is loud in his chest, “Shuri, I don't get all that, just...How is he?”

She sighs. “He is better, not fixed,” Shuri tells him, “He is not the same as you knew him,” she says, and her eyes are sad. “Do not push him too far. He is fragile.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” she says sharply. “I know people like you, America. You're consumers. You couldn't get enough being who you were, so you became the captain, and you couldn't get enough sending your radio coordinates, so you had to crash. You couldn't get enough just waking up, so you became an avenger, and you can't get enough just letting Bucky Barnes live, so you have to consume him too.”

Steve stares at her, and she stares back. It’s true. It’s so true. Oh, fuck. “Bucky's my best friend, he's the only left from my time. He’s…. I'm not gonna fuck that up, alright? I get what you're saying. It's true, I guess. But...Bucky’s….he’s different. He’s what I've got, really. He’s it. He’s all of it.”

“Alright, captain,” she steps back and opens the door with her fingerprint, “Do not break my toy,” she says as the lock disengages.

Steve swallows. “Thank you.” he steps inside the room and Bucky's there, sitting on a chair position in the middle of the room, one he’s dragged out from a desk. He's been waiting for him. 

He can't say anything, suddenly. The air’s been stolen from his lungs, and he can't shift his eyes from him. Bucky. Bucky. Buck. James. Buchanan. Bucky. 

“Hello,” Bucky says, quietly. That breaks the spell. Steve can breathe again. 

“Bucky?” Steve says gently, “Bucky, it's me. Steve.”

“They told me you were coming, but you don't look like him. You're not Steve.”

Pressure builds in Steve's throat. “Yeah, I am.”

“Steve isn't — like you,” he looks him up and down, revulsed.

Steve looks at his own body, and it seems otherworldly to his eyes, alien. “Remember, Bucky?” he pleads, “the serum? The war? Captain America. I'm Captain America.” his face remains blank. “I was your best friend, and they wouldn't let me fight. Goddamn, I wanted to, Buck. I really did. Then you got drafted, and you were gone. Gone to Italy. Erskine came to me, remember? Said I could go to war, I just had to do some stuff before. I passed the tests. Then they...they changed me, Buck. I became this. Then.. you got captured. So I left. I went, and I saved you, Buck. You've always been everything to me, and we walked out of that nazi camp together, with every single one of those other men. Do you remember?” 

Something changes in Bucky’s eyes and Steve gasps in relief when he says “Steve,” Bucky just says, “Steve.”

Steve leans forward and sobs, because his friend is back, his best friend is finally here. Bucky moves, and suddenly, he’s there, in front of him, and then he leans forward, and hugs him, chest to chest, Steve's head looks over his shoulders. Their skeletons should fit so well together, Steve thinks, but it’s just background because the main thought occupying his brain, screaming, taking up all the space is, oh god, it’s Bucky, alive and warm — not cold, not cold. A sob catches in his throat, and he spits it out bitterly, trying not to cry. Bucky hugs him tighter in response, and Steve just closes his eyes tight, thinking of two guys in one apartment, thinking of how these touches were so commonplace, thinking how it feels so different now, now his body is bigger than Bucky's, not a stick of a human being. How they still fit together.


	7. Chapter 7

  
  


“Hey, Tony. I have a question for you, and it's a lot, and I totally get it if you say--”

Tony doesn't even look up from whatever he’s working on. “Shut up. Shoot.”

Steve takes a deep breath.“When Bucky's stable, I'd like him to return to New York. Here, specifically.”

Tony looks up now, with wide eyes. “Live in the tower?”

Steve fidgets. He doesn't know what Steve's thinking. “Yeah.”

Tony shrugs, and looks down again, twisting something with a grunt of effort. “Okay.”

Steve jaw drops. “You’re good with it just like that?

“Uh,” Tony looks put on the spot, “provided he’s stable and the United States lets him inside the country?” he tries. “Oh, and Pepper says it’s allowed.”

Steve smiles. “Thank you, Tony. So much.”

He shrugs, “what can I say? I'm a generous guy.” he says it like it’s not true, but it is.

—

  
  


Natasha's with him, curled up like a cat. They're in his room, his bedroom, and Steve had been trying to sleep when she came in. It's not weird. They're close, strangely close. Sometimes people make jokes,  _ hey _ ,  _ love birds! Surprised you're not in Vegas with a marriage certificate, when are you two gonna get together? Your children will be horrifying.  _ The last one’s Tony. Really, all of them are Tony. 

Steve doesn't feel that way about Natasha. She's beautiful, really, and he could love her, maybe he already does. He's got too much going on. Peggy, Bucky — The trauma of him still being alive that is. Not him being in love with him or anything. 'Cause he’s not. 

“What are you gonna do if he can't come?” Natasha whispers. He can feel her heartbeat. 

“I'll go to Wakanda, or wherever will take us,” Steve tells her. “I don't care.”

“You'll leave?” 

“I’ll do anything for Bucky, Nat. Give everything up.” He closes his eyes. Thinks of their little home, their little apartment, and his dreams back then, and his dreams now. “It’s always been like that.” And it has, and no matter what happens, who Bucky is now, who Steve is now, Steve will never abandon him. 

“Huh,” she says, and burrows deeper into his side. “You love him.”

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah,” he rasps, and he's not sure what definition she’s using. 

—

“Jarvis?” Steve says to the ceiling, feeling a bit awkward. He's in his empty bedroom, not sure what to do. He hates calling Jarvis, he always feels so awkward. 

“Yes, Captain,” Jarvis says in his smooth British voice. 

“Call, uh, Shuri for me?”

“Of course, Captain,” Jarvis says, no questions asked. He likes that about Jarvis. He doesn't poke and prod. 

She picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Captain,” she says, voice issuing through the speakers in his room. 

“Shuri, hi. How are you?”

“Well enough,” she says, exchanging pleasantries, “you?”

“I‘m fine. It’s Bucky I’m calling about.”

“Of course. He is doing well. Not much left for me to do. He remembers more everyday, and from now it’s just up to time.”

“Oh, that’s good. So good.” Steve doesn't know quite what to say.

“Very.”

“Oh, uh, yeah I was also calling to tell you the US has accepted Bucky, I mean he’s on probation and stuff but there's still technically a citizen and Tony pulled a few strings, i think.” 

“Ah,” Shuri says, “thought that would happen. He’s just about cooked, really, so I can send him back in about a week.”

“Great.” Steve clears his throat, “could you...could you tell him?”

“Tell him what, captain?” Shuri says crisply.

Steve loses his courage. He feels like a fake. “That he can come home now.”

“Of course, captain,” Shuri sounds disappointed, or maybe it’s just him projecting.

“And that I’ll meet him on the tarmac. I’ll wait for him. End of the — that it’s the end of the line, and I’ll be there.”

“Yes, Captain.”

—

“You ready?” Natasha asks, about to arch up into a stretch like a cat. They’d slept together last night. Well, we didn't  _ sleep _ together. Slept in the same bed. 

It’d been good. Company. A warm body. He’d been up half the night, thinking about cold nights in New York with their power out, Bucky getting up, mumbling about being fuckin’ freezin’, slipping into bed next to him. 

Steve sighs. “I think so.”

She looks at the clock. “We don't have to get up for another hour.”

“Nah, no use stewing.”

He sits up. Slides out of bed. It’s so cold, even with Jarvis’s tricks, like heated floors and heating.

“Are you worried?”

“About what?” Steve asks, opening his closet. He doesn't know what to wear. Oh god, he feels like a goddamn high schooler. 

“I don't know, it’s the first time everyone meets him, well, properly,” Natasha says, staying still, soaking up the warmth.

“Yeah,” Steve pulls out a shirt. It’ll do. “If it doesn't work, I think we’ll just go get an apartment in Brooklyn. Like old times,” he strips his tee off, no worries about Natasha, and pulls it on, does up his buttons. 

Natasha yawns and swings her legs out of bed. “That’ll be nice.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, “only this time with electrics.” He starts looking at pants. He's got too many clothes. Tony got them all for him. 

“Didn't you have them?” Natasha steps out of bed and stretches again, her spine cracking. 

“No,” he laughs, “our whole building didn't. Went out one day, no money to fix it, I guess. Probably violated some rules, but let’s just say lawmaking in the 30’s wasn't doin’ great.”

She chuckles. “Sounds like you guys had fun, though.” 

“We did,” Steve smiles. “Buck had all these girls goin’ after him, so we’d go out dancing all the time, and get meals when we could, and we went to the first-ever Stark Expo just before Buch left for the war.”

She draws closer, peering at the pants he’s picked out. “Oh, god no, not them.”

“What's wrong with them?”

“Have you ever  _ heard _ of colour theory?” she says scathingly.

“No?” 


	8. Chapter 8

The plane appears suddenly, melting out of thin air. It touches down on the runway, tires barely squealing. Steve jumps up, walking from the empty lounge to the tarmac. The door opens, stairs descending, and first comes out bucky, bucky squinting into the sun, bucky stepping down the stairs with a flight attendant behind him, carrying his one bag of luggage. They get to the bottom of the stairs and he takes it from her. 

Steve steps out into the biting wind and hurries towards Bucky, who smiles when he sees him. they embrace, slapping each other on the back. 

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky murmurs into his ear.

“Bucky” steve whispers back.

“Feels good to be back in New York?”

Bucky sighs, “give it a minute.”

Steve laughs, “alright.”

It feels normal with him now. It feels like old times, but it’s not, Bucky's got a metal arm and his hair is far too long by 1930’s standards. 

Steve takes Buck's bag from him, swings it over his shoulder, they start walking towards the terminal, content with silence. 

They step inside, and someone’s waiting to take them to their car. 

“This way,” she says, and leads them into a different, service entrance. 

They emerge a few minutes later into a blustery blue sky and what seems like a billion camera flashes. 

“Oh, god, the paparazzi,” Steve groans. “Come on,” he starts the bicep of Bucky's flesh arm and pulses him through the crowd. There’s a few security guards holding them back, and Tony said there would be a police presence, but there’s no sign of them. 

“What the fuck, steve?” Buck asks, but Steve just focuses on getting them though he crows, to where Happy's holding the door open for them, trying to keep the path clear. “If my mother could see me now,” he murmurs. 

“Bucky Barnes! Bucky Barnes”

“Captain!”

“Who is he?”

“What's wrong with his arm?”

“Steve!”

“Are You going back to Avengers tower?”

“What is Mr Barnes’ involvement in HYDRA?”

“Where have you been?”

They slide inside the car, Steve slamming the door behind him. 

“Holy shit. That was something.”

Steve laughs. “Not like back then, huh?”

“Fuck no.”

He leans forward, towards the driver's seat, “let’s go, Happy.”

“If I can drive,” Happy murmurs back, pressing the gas pedal slowly, inching its way through the crowd of paparazzi.

Bucky turns to him suddenly, “Hey, didn't you die? In the ice?” he says it with no preamble, in the same tone you say ‘what do you want for lunch? Or hey what's the weather on Sunday like? or I think I'm gonna take the long way?’ not ‘didn you die.’

Steve ignores all that, and just says, “Yeah. Nearly.”

Bucky green, wide and true, the same way he used to smile all the time, when he’s set up a joke he can't wait to play into, “me too.”

Steve tries not to laugh. He fails.

  
  


—

They get to the tower a few minutes later. The press are outside again, shouting and jostling. 

Steve swallows. his heart is beating high in his throat, and it echoes in his brain.

“Are you nervous?”

Bucky swallows, and he’s vulnerable. A crab without a shell. Lost again. “What if they don't like me?

“Impossible, Buck, you're a goddamn ray of sunshine.”

Bucky laughs, open-mouthed, carefree. Steve hasn't heard him laugh like that for such a long time, and he’s just realised he misses it deeply. 

—

the elevator beeps as the door closed 

“Hello, captain and Mr Barnes,” JARVIS says. Bucky jumps out of his skin.

“What the fuck is that,” he says

“JARVIS,” Steve tells him. “Basically this...computer. He can do stuff for you.”

“What kinda stuff?”

“Anything you’d like, Mr Barnes,” JARVIS says. “Well, nearly. I am incapacitated by the lack of a human body.”

The door dings as it opens and the pair steps out.

Clint eyes him up, and says before anyone else, “Remember me? You tried to kill me.”

Bucky smiles. “Well, I tried to kill everyone, really. Sorry about that.”

“Hey, I'm Tony,” Tony says, and doesn't shake his hand. Bucky doesn't even blink. 

“Howard’s son.”

Tony's face goes icy. “Yeah.”

“I went to one of his expo’s, just before I left for Italy. It was cool. I want a flying car.”

Tony smiles. “He never could make that work, you know. Tried for years.”

Bucky smiles back. “Aw, too bad then.”

Tony shrugs. “Never said I couldn't make it.”

Bucky laughs. “I want to see evidence of this.”

“Of course. What kind of scientist would I be without evidence?”

“A bad one,” the client says. 

Bucky chuckles under his breath, and scans the rest of the room.

He reaches Natasha and his face freezes, “...Natalya?” the world's said uncertainty, and he shrinks down, just a little form under a microscope

Natasha smiles, and Bucky puffs back up, confident he’s got it right. “Natasha, now.”   
  


“Oh my god,” he says. She laughs at his reaction. “You grew!” he almost accuses. 

She nods. “It has been 20 odd years.”

He hugs her desperately. 

“Wait, I’m sorry, how do you know her?” Clint asks.

“Russia got ahold of the winter soldier in the 80’s. He spent quite a while with the Red Room, they used him as a training tool.”

"Don't remember half of what I did for Russia, but I remember the girls. I loved seeing them."

Natasha just smiles at him softly. 

Tony pours himself another cup of coffee. “So, you knew Cappy back when he was 90 pounds, huh? Any embarrassing stories.”

Bucky smiles. “So many. If I could remember them.”

The group laughs as one being. 

“Let me show you the tower, Bucky,” Steve says, and draws him away. “We’ll start from the bottom.”

“That's what he said!” Tony yells after them.

Clint laughs, but Natasha rolls her eyes. “Childish, don't you think?”

Tony leans over the table, “Oh, Nat, you haven't seen anything yet."


	9. Chapter 9

  
  


It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon in the tower, and everyone's in the kitchen. Steve's just taken drink orders and has a row of cups lined up. Natasha’s tea, and Tony's coffee, and Bucky wants hot chocolate.

“It’s like, uh,” Bucky says, his new long hair on his face, and Steve can barely tear his eyes away before someone sees. He turns back to making the drinks for everyone and ignores the throbbing in his throat, “homosexuality, y’know? People are gonna do it, but no way the governments makin’ it legal, lettin’ ‘em marry and stuff. No way — gosh, whaddya call it now? Weed? — Is becoming legal.”

“Gay marriage  _ is _ legal,” Tony says. 

Buck looks up in disbelief, “Oh, shit.”

“Nobody told you?” Natasha says. Steve starts on her tea; steep for three minutes, one sugar cube. 

He shrugs. “They gave me stuff to look at, but I got busy.”

“Wasn't being gay like a criminal offence?” Tony asks like he doesn't know. 

Bucky blinks to him. “I'm told.” Steve pours himself a coffee, face blank. 

“Don't you remember?” Steve asks, neutral in every visible way. 

He shrugs. “Not really. I mean, I know they were there. We lived in a pretty queer neighbourhood. I...our neighbour was a lesbian, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, drinking his coffee. “Ruth.” 

Oh, yeah. She was nice. I...I think She thought we were gay. Or implied it, once.”

The others chuckle, Steve doesn't. It’s not true, of course, nothing ever happened, but oh god, he wanted it to. 

“Oh, come on Steve, don't tell us you’re homophobic,” Tony asks, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

“No, no,” Steve says. Just...y’know, it's all different now.”

“Sounds homophobic,” Tony says.

Steve just sighs.  _ What can he say? Oh, I'm not homophobic, I’m gay? Or maybe not really gay, just in love with my best friend. _

“Steve?” Bucky asks and stands up. Oh, shit, he's onto him. How many years of hiding, and this is when he gets caught?

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve downs his coffee and washes it out in the sink. The others are left steaming on the counter, forgotten. 

He fidgets, but he clenches his hands together and sets his face into stone. ”was she right?"

There's murmuring from the other avengers, but Steve doesn't hear. He can’t hear anything past the roaring in his ears, his heartbeat.

“Don't be stupid,” Steve shakes his head, “of course not.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie?” Steve fixes him with that stare, the stare that means he's the embodiment of living good.

Bucky grits his teeth. “That's the thing, Steve. I think you would. I think you lied all the time.”

“Buck—'' Steve starts, he's not sure what he's gonna say, so he's glad Bucky cuts him off. 

“Just...we lived together, Steve, we were best friends, anyone can tell you that, but I don't believe it.”

“We were best friends, Buck. We shared an apartment, sure, but it was the depression!”

“Now you're sounding like a lesbian,” Tony says dryly, Natasha smacks him. 

“Don't make fuckin' jokes,” Bucky says without looking at him. 

Steve opens his arms, “This  _ is _ pretty funny, huh. Captain America. Golden boy. The embodiment of the red white and blue, a fag.” Tony twitches at the word, Natasha just blinks cooly. 

Bucky sighs, “What are you afraid of, Steve?”

“What am I — alright, I know you don't remember New York back then, but it wasn't— not like it is now. Remember Johnny McWilliams, huh? Do you remember him? He lived a block south, in that big apartment building we thought about moving into. He was arrested at some fairy bar in Manhattan, and I know you're about to think about cops, but they weren't even the problem. They let him go on bail, and that's when it happened. They brained him, those boys we grew up with, the boys' Johnny grew up with too. Smashed his head open with a brick. There wasn't even a funeral, Buck. His family didn't want one. They did that because they hate people like that. Who are different. You want that to happen to you?”

“That can't happen now.”

He rolls his eyes. “There are modern lynchings, Buck.”

“I— what am I meant to say?” he freezes, blinks, waits for an answer, “just tell me, Steve.”

“There's nothing to say.”

“Goddamnit, I know there is!”

“You don't know anything, Buck,” Steve yells, right in his face, and Bucky shrinks down, his face going hard. 

Steve feels ashamed, right in his gut but he can't find it in him to apologise. 

“I know you're lying, Steve,” Buck says. “I know that.” Steve doesn't say anything, so Bucky presses harder. “How would Sarah Rogers feel right now, huh?” Bucky breathes out, rough in a subtle way.

Steve full-body convulses, “I — don't you dare, Buck. Don't say shit about her.”

“How are you gonna stop me,” Buck says back. It’s not a question. 

Steve drops the plate he's drying. It smashes on the ground. Bucky doesn't flinch.

“Don't you fucking dare, Bucky. Alright? Don't even.”

“Why?” and Bucky's got that look in his eye, the one he got when he wouldn't back down. “Afraid you’ll tell me the truth?”

He tries to laugh. It doesn't really work. “Bucky, drop it.”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he yells, and sweeps the drying dishes off the counter, “let it fucking go!” china smashes and splinters on the tiled floor, a sea of sharp white pieces. Reality comes back to him, and he realises what he’s done. “Sorry, he says, and his face is drained of colour completely, like a ghost. “I'm sorry.”

—

The elevator door ding. Steve’s lying on the couch, deciding whether to hate himself in the shower or in bed, or just right here. All are valid options. 

He looks over, and it’s Bucky, in sweatpants, with his arm glinting in the light. 

He sits up, “Bucky, I —”

“Shut up,” he commands,and strides across the room to sit on the couch. “I'm gonna talk now, and you're gonna listen.”

I...I deserve to know about the extent of your relationship, Steve. Even if I'm...different now. I deserve to know.

Steve opens his mouth to agree, but Bucky cuts him off. “But I was...I was rude. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed the limit like that, I shouldn't have brought up your mother, and I definitely shouldn't have done it at that time, with everyone around.”

“You...you were my best friend, Steve. I know that’s true, at least.” he takes a deep breath, “You know one thing I can't ever get over is you, I don't think you're it, Stevie. You've always been it for me. The end of the line.”

Steve shakes his head. “Stop it, Buck.” He’s saying all these things, and Steve doesn't know what to do, or think, or feel.

“I — who were we? What were we?”

“We weren't anything, Buck.”

“That's not true.”

Steve sighs. “Uh...I...maybe I wanted to be something. But you never wanted me.”

Bucky looks at him. “I don't think that's true.”

The breath catches in his throat. “I —  _ Buck _ .”

“I have all these feelings, y’know,” he looks nervous, he’s twisting his hands around in his palm, a tic leftover from the old days, “ones I know don't belong, but I can't get them to go, Steve, and I've tried. Believe me, please.”

“I believe you '' Steve whispers, and his throat is so hoarse.

He smiles and it’s a bright, alive thing with red lips and white teeth, Steve can believe Bucky’s twisted into someone else for a moment. “Then kiss me,” Bucky says, and Steve's never been one to disobey. I mean, apart from everything he’s ever done, but he'll never disobey him. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the end, guys! 
> 
> thank you all soo much for reading, and I really hope you've enjoyed!
> 
> :)


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